


The Skinny Pirate

by imsorrydidijuststutter



Category: CrissColfer - Fandom, Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, Holiday Fic Exchange, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 03:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsorrydidijuststutter/pseuds/imsorrydidijuststutter
Summary: Gifted to Gleeffyndor for the CrissColfer Holiday Gift Exchange 2017.Based off the prompt: Cute party moments.





	The Skinny Pirate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gleeffyndor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleeffyndor/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy it, Tabitha! Happy Holidays!

Chris didn’t know why the hell he took this class. “Intro to Medieval Theatre” was not something English majors needed to check off in order to graduate on time, but somehow his advisor convinced him to “expand his palette” (her words, not his) after confessed his hobbies were “Saving up money to buy a decent ticket to real Broadway show… and the Royal Family, of course.” 

 

“Who knows, maybe you’ll find yourself declaring a new minor? Or maybe even another major!” 

 

He doubted it. 

 

Unfortunately, the only other class that fit into his already packed schedule was "Calculus 102", but he'd struggled pretty badly in the intro course thanks to his school's love for pushing students to binge drink in the middle of the night.

 

Chris let out a sigh of relief as he looked around the room and realized that he definitely wasn’t alone in the “Well, I’m not in thousands of dollars of debt just to sit in my dorm room and sleep” boat. 

 

Chris feels his phone buzz in his pocket, and takes it out to reveal a text from his mom, “Miss You Honey! Good luck with your first day of classes!” with three different heart emojis. "He rolls his eyes; for one thing, he just saw them yesterday, and for another, he is in his third year of college."

 

“This isn’t my first rodeo” he sends back, with a wink. 

 

At about five minutes past noon, the professor finally walks into the room, crushing those hopeful the college golden rule would be practiced on the first day of classes. 

 

After droning on and on about “How Medieval Theatre actually shaped society as we know it,” (Chris doubts it and takes a mental note to fill out a “Pass/Fail” form before the deadline) the professor explains how a chunk of each student’s grade will rely on group projects. 

 

“I’ve already assigned you to groups of four. If you can’t make it work, prove to me you deserve to pass.” 

 

Chris rolled his eyes. Not only did he have read about a bunch of old plays in a language no one even uses anymore, his grade relied on a bunch of strangers? Calculus was sounding more and more tantalizing with every second that passed.  

 

Of course, Chris’ group was named last, reminding him of those times he would rather forget in middle school gym class. “Chris C, Derek B, Casey S, and Ella F, you’re group 6. You guys can spend the rest of the class discussing assignments with each other.” 

 

“So, is anybody else thinking about dropping this class?” Casey joked as the four moved their chairs closer together. 

 

“I wish,” Chris chimed in. “This is the only elective that fit into my schedule.” 

 

“Same” the other three exclaimed in unison. 

 

“Did anyone get the textbook yet?” Ella asked. 

 

“Girl, it’s syllabus week,” Casey replied. “AKA waiting until we actually need it and then ordering it on Amazon for much cheaper.” 

 

Casey wasn’t wrong. Chris wasn’t even planning on buying the required textbook for half of his classes until halfway through the semester. 

 

“Speaking of syllabus week,” Derek said while grabbing his phone out of his pocket, “I’m throwing a bit of a “Welcome Back” party at my apartment on Saturday. Want me to add y’all to the Facebook group? I mean, we’re already going to have to work together for the next few months. Let’s at least make it fun.” 

 

Chris shrugged. Why not? 

 

\-------

 

After what felt like the longest train ride of his life, Chris finally arrived to Derek's apartment at about half-past nine. Or, as Chris called it, “fashionably late.” 

 

After making his way up the stairs, he was greeted by his classmate at the door, (“Chris, right?”), who led him into the surprisingly spacious apartment packed with people he’d seen around campus. 

 

“Drinks and snacks are in the kitchen. Don’t be ashamed to help yourself,” Dereck exclaimed in a friendly tone before excusing himself to go catch up with a friend. 

 

Chris looked around the room and quickly realized that while he was surrounded by familiar faces, he couldn’t even come close to guessing a single person’s name. 

 

“I need a drink,” he muttered to himself before heading to the kitchen. 

 

Making friends isn’t really Chris’ strong suit. Sure, he has a few close ones, both at home and on campus, but he’s never been the one to initiate the conversation, as nerves typically got the best of him. But, with a drink or two, maybe he could at least tolerate the rest of the night. Or, at least, the long train ride home. 

 

As Chris is capping off his special concoction, he hears an unfamiliar voice behind him go, “Rum and Diet Coke? That’s a new one.” 

 

"He turns around to see a boy he’d never met before staring back at him. He has curly, messy hair and bright hazel eyes. Chris finds his heartbeat speeding up; shit, this guy is  _ cute _ .

 

“Well, I’m a new one… I mean-” He found himself stumbling over his words. “I’ve never been here before. So, that makes me… a new one?” 

 

The other boy raises an eyebrow, “Whatever floats your boat, man. I’m Darren by the way. You must know my roommate, Derek.” 

 

“Yep!” Chris exclaims, the pitch of his voice going the highest it had ever been - which is saying a lot. “We’re in that Medieval Theater class together.” 

 

“Ohhhhhh. I took that last semester. Part of my requirement.” 

 

“Really? I didn’t peg you for a Medieval studies major.” 

 

“No,” Darren laughs. “I’m kidding. No one chooses that class on purpose.” He takes a sip of whatever’s in his cup. “Well, let me get back to playing host. It was nice to meet you…” 

 

“Chris.”

 

Darren reaches over Chris’ shoulder to grab a chip from the half-empty bowl behind him. "He's a little too close for Chris’ comfort, but he looks Chris in the eye and smiles. “Chris. That has a nice ring to it. And I’m definitely not saying that because I’m a little tipsy and it’s also my last name.” 

 

Chris does his best not to giggle. “H or no H?” 

 

Darren takes a bite of his chip and heads back towards the crowd gathering in his living room, “No H!” 

 

Luckily for Chris, a few minutes later Ella wound up arriving, and the two bonded over being in the same boat. When they weren’t exchanging Netflix binge recommendations, Chris found himself looking around the room trying to spot his new friend, hoping to catch his glance. 

 

With a smile so contagious, Darren just oozed charm. Chris lost track of how many people Darren had a conversation with throughout the night, but each one seemed so personal, it was like he was eavesdropping on something private, despite the fact that he couldn't understand a single word being said.

 

During the train ride home, he thought about what could Darren have possibly done to make everyone enjoy his company so much? Did he volunteer in his spare time? Did he save a kitten from a tree? Is he secretly a siren magically luring in his victims only to kill them all later for his pleasure? 

 

How did a twenty-second conversation about a shitty class turn into something so… special? 

 

Chris humors himself with the idea of talking to Darren again, thinking up imaginary conversations as the stations pass him by. 

 

\---

 

It didn’t take long for Derek to invite the study group to another party. 

 

“Yo, we’re going all out for this one,” was the first sentence in the Facebook event’s description. Chris rolled his eyes as he read through it. “Themed drinks. A bomb playlist. Where else are you gonna spend Halloweekend? Costumes aren’t mandatory, but they are highly encouraged.” 

 

Chris waited a few hours before changing his status to “Going.” He didn’t want to seem too desperate. 

 

\---

 

The train ride to the apartment definitely felt longer now that he was in costume. He never wore his wookie onesie outside of his bedroom, but with this semester’s course load, he had no time to DIY a costume, nevertheless buy one. 

 

So, Chewbacca it was. 

 

The loud thumping of the music emitting from the boys’ apartment could be heard before Chris even stepped into the building. As he walked up the stairs, Chris thought to himself, “All of this for a boy who may or may not know you even exist?” which was then followed by a “Wow, if we somehow ever started dating, he’s coming to my place.” 

 

After knocking on the door several times without any luck, Chris jiggled the handle only to find that the door wasn’t even locked. 

 

“Why am I not surprised?” he muttered to himself before walking into the packed room, only to force himself not to turn out right there. Between the flashing lights, loud music, and the stench of something he’d rather not know the source of, he was sure the theme Derrek picked for this party was “sensory overload.” 

 

Chris made his way around the room hoping to catch sight of someone he’d recognize enough to speak to when he hears a familiar voice shout “Chewie!” 

 

He turns around to see none other than Darren rushing towards him, dressed as none other than Han Solo. 

 

“No fucking way,” Chris whispers to himself before Darren engulfs him in a hug he certainly did not ask (but definitely wished) for. 

 

“Come on, buddy. We have to go smuggle some important goods to the resistance,” Darren says, excitedly. “I hear they’re on this new planet called ‘Kitchen Counter.’” 

 

Darren grabs his hand and guides him over to the kitchen and Chris wonders if he’ll ever be able to wash his hand again. 

 

“Here we are, Chewie. Look at all these goods,” Darren stated, gesturing to a variety of beverages in from of them.

 

Chris just laughs. “I will definitely take some of that.” 

 

“Well, then let me make you your favorite.” 

 

Darren grabs a cup and reaches for the Diet Coke. “You remembered?” Chris squeaks out, baffled. 

 

“Duh.” Darren pours the soda into the cup. “I have been thinking of names to call it for the past month. The best one I could come up with is “The Skinny Pirate.”" Darren grabs a bottle of cheap rum and pours a generous amount into Chris’s drink. “But, why is the rum gone?” Darren says in his best attempt at a Johnny Depp accent.

 

“Wow,” Chris says sarcastically. “Someone should’ve chosen a different costume.”

 

“Hey! Then we wouldn’t have matched. He jokingly pouts before Chris attempts to grab the cup from out of his hands. “Not so fast!” Darren holds the cup out of Chris’ reach. “You gotta do the voice.” 

 

“What voice?” 

 

“The Chewie voice.” 

 

Chris laughs. “No way.” 

 

“Yes, way.” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“You couldn’t get me to do that voice if you held a gun to my head.” 

 

“Ok, but what if I held the cup to my lips.” 

 

“You’re not going to like the taste of that.” 

 

“I don’t like the taste of most alcohol. You’ve got three seconds.” 

 

“I don’t need your germs.” 

 

“Two.” 

 

“Please don’t.” 

 

“One.” 

 

Darren takes a sip out of the cup before his face immediately puckers, giving Chris the chance to swipe it out of his hands. “Told you.” 

 

“Wow that… How do you not throw up in your mouth every time that touches your tongue.” 

 

“It’s an acquired taste,” Chris says before taking a sip.

 

“So, are you enjoying yourself Mister Chris with an H?” 

 

“Well, other than the terrible bartending service, I’m having a great night.”

 

Darren smiles, before a voice sounding like his roommate calls out his name, making him sigh in annoyance.

 

“And, that’s my cue for me to go. It was an honor to serve alongside a true friend.” Darren says as he salutes Chris before winking and running off into the crowd. 

 

It takes all of Chris not to fall back against the counter. “What  _ is _ my life?” he thinks to himself before being tapped on the shoulder by Ella, dressed as none other than Princess Leia.  

 

“Hey, we match!” 

 

\----

 

The next day, Chris gets a notification on his phone that makes the butterflies in his stomach throw a party. 

 

“Darren Criss has requested to be your friend.” 

 

Chris immediately throws his phone on his bed while grabbing a pillow to scream in. “This cannot be happening” he mutters to himself. 

 

Chris waits a solid ten minutes (He knows, he counted) until clicking “accept” in order to pretend he’s too cool to constantly check social media and is busy doing  _ whatever _ the kids are doing these days. 

 

While losing track of time as he dives deep into his profile (Relationship Status: Single), Chris hears the “ping” of a new message…. From Darren. 

 

_ Hey, Chris with an H _ the message reads.  _ Sorry I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to you last night. Too busy saving the galaxy and stuff lol. BTW I found your page from the Facebook event. Please don’t think I’m a creep. _

 

Chris drafts three different messages (Surprisingly, none of them are  _ Marry me? _ ) before responding with,  _ I would never think you’re a creep. _

 

He phone buzzes again within thirty seconds.  _ Thank God. I was totally worried. _

 

_ No need to worry. So, have you come up with any more names for my signature drink? It’s always been my dream to have my own brand by the time I’m 30.  _

 

Chris smiled to himself as his phone lit up with another notification.

 

\---

 

For the next few weeks, the two would not stop messaging each other. They chatted about everything from school ( _ Tell your roommate to get his shit together so we don’t fail _ ), to family ( _ Wait, you’re from California too? _ ), to bizarre snack combinations ( _ Have you ever dipped Goldfish into chocolate pudding? _ ), and Chris is loving every second of it. 

 

Chris feels like he's on cloud nine. Every buzz of his phone puts a pep in his step and he doesn't even care that he still has three papers to write. He needs to know exactly who Darren’s favorite Disney Princess is.

 

_ Moana, duh. She didn’t need no man to save her. Well, except for The Rock, but he could save me any day. _

 

“Who are you texting?” Ella asks as Chris’ phone goes off for the millionth time during their study session. 

 

“No one…” Chris ignores her as he turns the page in his textbook. 

 

“Come on. If I have to read the words ‘doth say’ again I will start screaming very loudly. Do you want to be responsible for us getting kicked out of the library?” 

 

He closes the textbook. “Fine. Do you remember Derek's roommate?” 

 

“The cutie with the curly hair? Of course.” 

 

“Well…” Chris hands his phone over to her. 

 

“Damn…” Ella says as she scrolls through the messages. “You two are quite the chatty Cathys. So, how long have you been… you know…?” 

 

“Well… we’ve only really been texting.” 

 

“Wait, please tell me you’ve actually seen each other since Halloween?”

 

Come to think of it, Chris hadn’t actually seen Darren since the holiday, and it’s been almost a month since then. Did Darren not actually like him? He only talked to Chris when he was visibly drunk or via a phone screen? Was he just a toy for Darren to play with? Does Darren have a boyfriend? A girlfriend? A spouse? Why hasn’t Darren asked to meet him face to face? Is he that repulsed by the thought of interacting with- 

 

“Chris!” Ella shouts, snapping him out of his trance. “Are you ok?” 

 

Chris looked down at his hands, not noticing he was visibly shaking. “Yeah. I’m fine.” 

 

His phone buzzes. “Are you sure?” 

 

“I said I’m fine.” 

 

\---

 

“This was a bad idea,” Chris thought to himself as he sat on the train to Derek’s apartment. 

 

Let’s work at my apartment, he said. The librarian won’t let us talk, he said. My roommate doesn’t care, he said. 

 

Darren’s message had remained unread for a few days. The worst part? That was the last message Darren sent him. No follow up. No, “Hey, how’s your day going?” Just silence. 

 

Chris got the hint. 

 

Well, more like an SOS signal. 

 

But, here he was, currently on his way to his apartment, because the sooner he passed this class, the sooner he could get rid of Darren. 

 

About two stops away, Chris gets a text from Derek. 

 

_ Hey. Had a family emergency to take care of. Nothing major, but let’s push back our meeting to four-ish instead of three? If you’re already on your way, my roommate will let you in. Just knock on the door.  _

 

Chris checked his watch.

 

2:47 pm. 

 

Fuck. 

 

\---

 

Since the apartment was far from any sort of civilization (Seriously, there wasn’t even a McDonald’s or a Starbucks he could sit in to pass the time) he decided to bite the bullet and head to Darren’s place. 

 

Before heading into the building, he checks his phone again. No messages. What was he expecting? 

 

He heads up the stairs, and before he could bash the door open in a fit of rage, he stops at the sound of a guitar strumming. 

 

_ “You’re a diamond I’m afraid to touch.”  _

 

Was that... Darren?

 

_ “You're damn near flawless and I'm sure you'd cut off my eyes, my hands, my head, my heart. You'd tear this canvas skin apart. Oh, what a waste of human art that’d be” _

 

He played guitar? He sang? He  _ wrote lyrics _ ? Why didn’t this come up in any of their conversations before?

 

Maybe Darren was a siren after all? 

 

He pressed his ear against the door as he let his anger float away. Listening to Darren’s voice was pure bliss, like the first sip of hot cocoa on a chilly night. He felt himself practically melt into the floor. 

 

Chris waited until the song finished until he knocked on the door, his hands shaking thinking about what he was going to say when he saw Darren’s face. 

 

Before he could settle on an expression, Darren opens the door, an excited expression on his face once he realized who knocked. “Chris!” he said excited. “And what do I owe the pleasure?” 

 

“I… uh…” Chris stutters, angry at himself for letting Darren have such an effect on him. “Working on a project. Derek said he’d be late but I was already on my way, so… now I’m here.”

 

“Now you’re here.” Darren steps aside to make way for Chris. “Come in.” 

 

Chris walks into the apartment and settles down on the couch. “You up for a Skinny Pirate or is it too early?” Darren shouts from the kitchen. 

 

“Definitely too early,” Chris replies. “But I’ll take a water if you don’t mind?” 

 

“Coming up.” Darren makes his way back to the living room, glass in tow. “Not to brag, but you actually arrived at a great time. I was just fooling around with this ol’ thing,” He says, gesturing to the guitar. 

 

“You play?” Chris asks like he wasn’t just eavesdropping for the past five minutes. 

 

“Yep. I swear I’m not one of those people who play ‘Wonderwall’ in the middle of the quad.” Darren fiddles around with the guitar. “Any requests?” 

 

“Hmmm… how about ‘Wonderwall’”? 

 

The boys exchange looks and laugh. God, Chris missed this. 

 

“Hey, Darren?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

 

“Shoot.” 

 

“You like me, right?” 

 

“Duh. You’re an awesome dude.” 

 

“No. I mean… like… Fuck, how do I say this…”

 

“Say what?” 

 

Chris takes a deep breath. “Why haven’t we… you know… hung out together. Just the two of us.” 

 

Darren looks over at Chris. “Like hang out or like a date?” 

 

“I don’t know… both?” 

 

“Well… are you busy tomorrow night?” 

 

“Not that I know of, why?” 

 

“Well, then it’s a date,” Darren says matter-of-factly. 

 

“It’s a date?” 

 

“It’s a date.” Darren looks over at Chris and smiles. “Ok now are you into Netflix and Chill in the literal sense or the metaphorical sense?” 

 

Chris and Darren both start laughing, almost missing the knock at the door. 

 

\---

 

_ Darren Criss invited you to his event “When I Think About You I Touch My Elf AKA Ugly Sweater Party”  _

 

\---

 

After a long train ride, Chris heads up the stairs to Darren’s apartment, letting himself in after realizing they forgot to lock it… again. 

 

With the party already in full swing, Chris makes his way towards the kitchen to put down his goods. 

 

“Excuse me,” someone whispers in his ear, “I think you’re forgetting a time-honored Christmas tradition.”

 

Chris turns around to see Darren in a Christmas sweater so ugly, he has to look away in fear of going blind. Luckily for him, looking up means spotting a pair of the warmest, softest eyes he's ever seen...   
  
Oh. There's also a mistletoe in Darren’s hands

 

“Do you greet all your party guests this way?” Chris asks, sarcastically. 

 

“Nope. As long as Ryan Gosling responds to my emails, you’re special. Come to think of it, he’s probably too busy figuring out how to save jazz.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Chris says before grabbing Darren’s face and kissing him slowly. 

 

Tonight was going to be a good night, for sure.

 


End file.
